


House of Cards

by BlueTwilight



Category: MindCrack
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killer, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTwilight/pseuds/BlueTwilight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is a detective who moonlights as a serial killer. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With the Moon as My Only Witness

**Author's Note:**

> For Ficeny

Kurt hummed as he dug. He didn’t really know why; that was just what he did. It’s not like the soft melody calmed him, because he was already perfectly calm. In fact, he never felt more at ease than when he was alone in a graveyard at night, with only his shovel to keep him company. He supposed he hummed just because that was what he did. It was what he always did, and it had always worked for him in the past, so why change up the ritual now? Just the thought sent a nervous flutter through his stomach. His humming picked up pace, as if to make up for the momentary lapse in judgment.  
  
As soon as he felt like he’d dug far enough, Kurt straightened up and wiped the sweat off of his brow. He fetched a yard stick that he had lying next to the freshly dug grave and used it to inspect his handiwork. Eight and a half feet… perfect. It would have seemed like an arbitrary height to most, but the number sent a satisfying thrill through Kurt’s chest. For the sake of the ritual, Kurt took down the measurements of the other side of the grave, too. Couldn’t have it sloping upwards or downwards, could he? But he needn’t have worried, since the grave’s floor came out to be perfectly level. To be sure, he measured it a third time, but still the hole came out to eight and a half. It was almost worrying, how well everything was going. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though.  
  
Even for Kurt, who was staggeringly tall, getting out of a hole that was eight and a half feet deep was quite the task. He dug his foot into one side of the dirt wall and used it to propel himself up, then used his arms to hoist his body up and out of the grave. It was clearly a practiced maneuver; something he’d struggled with the first couple times. He was glad that he was getting better, more efficient. The thought of efficiency eased The Knot in his chest, if only a little.  
  
After that, it was all smooth sailing. All he had to do was dump the body (which landed in the grave with a satisfying _THUNK_ ) and fill the hole back up to exactly six feet. Filling the hole was not nearly as hard as digging it, though he did have to jump back in briefly to measure it three times again. Once he was sure of the grave’s correct dimensions, Kurt stood back and scanned the fresh grave. It looked like any grave, waiting for a casket to be lowered into it. One John McKenzie was destined for this particular hole in the ground; a man age 86 who had died of a heart attack a couple days ago. The ceremony was tomorrow morning, but the man’s family had no idea they would be praying over not one, but two dead bodies.  
  
Finished with his work, Kurt let out a long, satisfied breath. The anxiety that had been slowly cumulating in him for the past year was finally gone. While the act of killing may have loosened The Knot, the meticulous process of burying the body was the thing that really unraveled it. It was the best he’d felt all year, and the best he’d feel for another year to come.  
  
Only once he’d made the walk back to his car and had thrown the shovel in the trunk did Kurt realize how disgusting he was. Dirt covered his hands and clothes and, despite the cold, Chicago night, he’d worked up quite a sweat. He wrinkled his nose at the tangy smell of sweat and blood, barely holding back the acid churning in his stomach. Kurt gasped, wiping his hands on his pants with furious vigor. He had to get home, had to get _clean_! With that, he began the frantic drive back to his house, ready to burn his clothes and take his ritualistic, scalding hot shower.


	2. Interlude - Butter Fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interludes = flashbacks, in case you can't tell ;)

It was Kurt’s first day on the job, and already he was regretting every life choice that had led up to this moment. What, exactly, had made him think he’d be fit for a career in criminal justice? He could hardly work up the nerve to make small talk with a barista… how could he have fooled himself into thinking he could interview witnesses? Or, more realistically, explain a traffic violation to a pissed off driver? Because there was no way he was ever going to be good enough to get promoted to detective if he couldn’t even handle the first stepping stone; being a lowly officer.

In all of his worrying, Kurt almost forgot where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He needed to find the records of one Natalie Smith so that he could see just how many DUIs she’d accumulated in her short, 21 years of life. For that, he needed the records clerk, whose office was located in the labyrinth that was the department’s basement. It took him close to five minutes to finally find the right desk among all of the bookshelves and, when he did, the clerk wasn’t even there. There was, however, a little bronze bell at the desk with a note under it that read “Ring for Service.” Already at the end of his rope, Kurt slammed his hand on the bell three times in rapid succession, causing a shrill ringing to fill the library of police records.

“Sorry, just a minute!” A smooth, male voice called out from behind one of the shelves, the frantic rustling of papers telling Kurt that the man was, indeed, hurrying. Suddenly, a loud THUNK interrupted the rustling; the clerk must have dropped something. Interestingly, he didn’t swear, but instead muttered an almost inaudible “Dang!” Feeling a bit bad for causing the man to drop whatever he was holding, Kurt walked toward the sound of the voice until he found the clerk, bent over and picking up the scattered papers on the ground. The position granted Kurt with an excellent view of the clerk’s denim-clad ass. He coughed once to alert the clerk to his presence, ears bright red with embarrassment.  
The clerk, however, didn’t seem fazed by being found in this less-than-flattering position. He turned and straightened up, grinning sheepishly at Kurt.

“Sorry! I’m so clumsy, I’ll only be a minute…” The poor guy was so sincere and apologetic that it made Kurt feel even worse about startling him. As he looked into the man’s soft, bearded face, he felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease up. Words fell easily out of his mouth, when all day he’d been stuttering and clamming up like some sort of spastic freak.

“No, it’s my fault, let me help you.” In one, long stride, Kurt was kneeling beside the clerk and helping him to sweep the papers up into a neat stack. As soon as they were all tucked safely back into a manila folder, the clerk turned to the taller man with a dazzling smile.

“Thanks, man!” Kurt was painfully aware, then, of how narrow the aisle was and how close he was standing to the clerk. He blushed again and looked down at his feet, shuffling away a little to give the other guy some breathing room. He didn’t seem to notice Kurt’s awkwardness, though, and ploughed straight on. “Hey, I don’t remember seeing you here before… are you new?” Kurt looked back up, lamenting his recently-shaved head since it didn’t offer any hair for him to hide his eyes behind.

“Yeah, I’m Kurt… er, I mean, Officer Mac.” He held out his hand and the clerk took it gladly, his grip soft and warm for a man’s.

“You can call me Beef! Sorry about the mess… I’m just dropping everything today!” Kurt chuckled as he let his hand drop back to his side. This Beef guy certainly apologized a lot, he was finding.

“It’s no big deal, I’m not in a rush.” Actually, he was in a hurry, but Kurt found himself wishing he wasn’t so that he could spend more time in the basement. It was rare for him to want to be around a person, but something about Beef just drew him in.

“Well anyway, what was it you needed from me?” Kurt was very tempted to say something flirtatious, then, but bit his tongue. It wasn’t professional to be flirting with the records clerk, and besides, the guy probably wasn’t into him, anyway. Instead, Kurt explained what he needed to know, silently thinking that he might have to find an excuse to look up some old files more often.


End file.
